


Din(n)er

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 08:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: He's pretty sure there's some irony in this, even if he doesn't remember what that is.





	Din(n)er

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving old fic from 2012--this was holiday cardfic for Laylah, who requested Serph/Heat - sharing a meal.

There's a café not far from the base. Bailey's Café--that's what it says on the window, and that's the only way Heat would know what it is, because like most of the Junkyard not claimed by one of the tribes, the place stands empty, used by no one. Under a uniform layer of dust and rubble, it almost looks like it's never been used, only that's stupid. Who'd build a place and never use it?

Only apparently someone's found a use for it after all, and Heat scowls as he eyes the sniper he and Serph just took out. It's one of the Solids but no one he recognizes: just some skinny kid with better aim than sense. That shot had almost nailed Serph before Heat noticed and shoved him aside. 

The kid had just about flown when Heat fired through the plate glass window and caught him square in the chest. Dead before he landed, the sniper lies sprawled across a miraculously unbroken table as Heat and Serph stand to either side, staring down at the body.

He's pretty sure there's some irony in this somewhere, even if he doesn't quite remember what that is.

He frowns when Serph glances up at him, frowns harder when a pale brow arches and one corner of Serph's mouth curls up slow. And he can _not_ be thinking what Heat thinks he's thinking, because that would just be wrong. Devouring an enemy in some alley at the end of a long and bloody fight is one thing. Sitting down to a _civilized meal_ is another.

"You've got to be kidding me," Heat groans, baring his teeth when Serph's smile widens. "Do you have any idea how--I can't believe I'm even saying this." He really, really can't. He is the _least_ picky eater of all of them. "Seriously. You want to do this? _Here_?"

Serph doesn't drop his eyes as he rests a hand on the dead Solid's chest--a hand that doesn't change or grow claws and blades or anything. It's not Varna staring back at him as Serph's fingers find a ragged hole and press in, the slick sound of it flooding Heat's mouth with saliva.

"Fuck," he breathes out explosively, confused by the way Serph's eyes go soft and sleepy, at the unfamiliar tension that coils in his gut because of it. It has him so unsettled, he nearly skitters back when Serph circles the table towards him, and he isn't sure whether it's pride or resentment or something else that makes him hold his ground in the end.

Serph's fingers have slipped free, and they're red to the last knuckle when he lifts them towards Heat's face, two pressed together as they touch his lips, gentle and then firm, and slide right inside his mouth.

He's frozen at first, staring in shock, because Serph is _crazy_. Heat has copper on his tongue and soft flesh between his teeth, and how can Serph think for one instant that he's not going to bite? It's almost a relief when Serph starts to slide his fingers out again--but then he pushes them back in, stroking deliberately over Heat's tongue, which curls around them on a moan as some rusty instinct tells him to hollow his cheeks and _suck_.

Serph tastes amazing, of blood and brine and clean skin, and Heat knows he's growling, but he doesn't care. If Serph isn't smart enough to figure out he's a threat, that's not his problem. His problem is that Serph is pulling his fingers out again, all the way this time, and Heat's head dips to follow them with a dissatisfied rumble.

He doesn't realize he's got his eyes closed until something soft and warm settles against his mouth, and he opens his eyes to find Serph's face not even an inch from his own, Serph's tongue sliding over his teeth like it belongs there.

He waits for this to be weird--licking at Serph's mouth ought to be like savoring a kill--but the odd tension in his gut just gets stronger. He wants to _taste_ , not devour; he wants to _pin_ , not rend. He doesn't get this at all.

He whimpers when Serph pulls away, and he is never, ever going to admit that. Or that he wants to push Serph onto the nearest empty table and--he'll figure out what comes next when he gets there. If he gets there. Not like he's actually tempted.

When Serph takes a step back, he watches intently. For some reason he's expecting an invitation.

He's not expecting Serph to primly pull out a chair, sitting down at the table where the dead sniper is starting to drip onto the floor and watching Heat expectantly like he expects Heat to join him.

"You are so lucky Argilla can't see this," he mutters, yanking out the other chair brusquely and flopping down into it, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

Serph just smiles at him, and Heat turns pointedly away.

He just wants to know what Serph's mouth will taste like after a meal, that's all.


End file.
